


into art

by nymeriastarks



Category: League of Legends
Genre: A cat - Freeform, Art, Performance, character study of sorts, dramatism (it is jhin), he plays the piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24662362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriastarks/pseuds/nymeriastarks
Summary: jhin finds an old piano in a building he is scouting. suddenly, the opportunity for beauty presents itself.(inspired by that one interaction between jhin and yuumi)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	into art

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written or posted here since 2016 but league and darling khada jhin have brought me back from the dead. be kind, please.

it was just getting dark outside when the room had caught jhin’s attention as he wandered through the abandoned cement building.

it was almost in ruins, bleakly dead, with cracked stone walls and moss covering the panels of the floor. dust littered every surface. in the middle of the decrepit place was a half-rotten wooden piano, with some of its strings missing and the keys yellowed from the passage of time. it hadn’t seen the sun in a long time and had felt no human life in as much; remained untouched by any and all, hidden away.

the room exuded something he couldn’t place, just like all good works of art. he smiled under his mask, a calculated but honest motion, and went on to carefully prance toward the piano as if it could run away like a frightened animal. he looked around, spinning slowly as he moved, admiring the solitude. he didn’t wonder whose piano this had been, or who this room and building used to belong to. he saw instead a stage, a silent, audienceless stage, and he took it with a flick of his wrist like he would take a life.

he sat on the old piano stool and did nothing for a while. all great art takes its time, and he was not here to rush it. it would come as it pleased, and it would leave when it was appropriate, if he gauged it well enough. if his playing was perfectly dissonant enough, if his movements were graceful enough. slowly, he rested his fingertips on the piano keys. he would not test them for their sound before the time came, and would not touch them after the time had passed. he was a patient man. he could wait.

when he did start his playing, the tone was a wild beast in its deathbed, the notes the stars looking down pitilessly on its poor fate, singing personal tragedies of gods. some of them were not audible because of the broken strings inside, but it did not matter. the tempo told stories of old that repeated themselves until exhaustion, for such was their fate. and so he played, not caring if anyone would hear, but wishing no one could interrupt this gift-wrapped performance he had stumbled into.

to the sound of the piano a malnourished white cat came out of hiding.  
it was dirty with mud, ugly, frayed. half of its right ear was missing. he limped as he came closer, exhausted. with its deep blue eyes, it seemed to comprehend. it laid down next to the piano, out of the range of jhin’s feet, and curled in on itself without a sound to break the music. 

jhin did not stop his slow melody for a moment while he contemplated the animal moving haphazardly across the room to him. it was primal, lacking the elegance cats were known for. and yet the cat did not ruin his performance. on the contrary, it made jhin understand too. it was now his only audience, this dying thing which had known nothing in its life but muck. the melody he played was now for it, a product of it, meant for any dying animal in the city who could hear it. it might not be soothing their wounds, but it could show them something better, and something they would never experience again. jhin found himself frowning from the concentration. had it all turned into this dirty cat’s swan song? had the universe meant it this way? for this little animal who had only glanced at him with terror and broken gentleness?  
jhin accepted what he was given, and the cat accepted what he gave. it was a symbiotic performance, and once more, the art had guided him to what needed to happen. it remained in a fetal position with its eyes closed, but jhin could tell it was not sleeping. its ears moved toward the shattered notes he kept playing.

art could never be allowed to go on for too long or to be cut short, and the air told jhin the performance was nearing its end. he knew when it was time for the curtain call. he drew out the notes slower and slower, like a torturer not allowing his victims the release of death as it neared, for it was not time. the music dwindled, nearly reticent. slowly, carefully, the notes came to a stop, but each of them lingered in the air like a smell, until they were no more. the last chord came, at last. 

and so, it all began to dissipate. the cat began to stir. its pain began to come back. the ugliness began to rear its disturbing head.

with a fast movement, jhin shot his last bullet in the cat’s tainted white body. its eyes had not opened yet, and now they would never again. 

it had not been mercy, it had been fate. it had been the curtain call for the little beast. the performance asked it of him, and he could not deny art.  
the reverberation of the notes mixed with the scent of blood. with a swift movement, like water, he rose from the chair and walked away. 

the cat now slept in death next to the piano. 

jhin would not come back to the room. he vowed it to himself after every performance, but he felt no craving to return anyway. he had had his closure. he’d turned the pitiful creature into art, and allowed it to mix with the music. 

his footsteps resonated in the empty room, and he shut the door behind him. the sound echoed through the entire building.


End file.
